InsaneJournal

“It purrs?”

Tony glanced up from where he sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed at the sound of Rhodey’s voice. He found Rhodey standing just inside the bedroom, looking around the tray he was holding so he could glare down at the silvery-grey disk shaped object that was slowly approaching him. The ‘cat’-- a modified Electrolux Trilobite 2.0 robotic vacuum cleaner Tony had just finished drawing whiskers and ears on-- paused in its approach then moved forward, the purring growing louder as it bumped against the side of Rhodey’s foot.

“It does now.” Tony turned back to the mouse he had tucked halfway into his sling to keep it in place while he screwed the base back on. “I updated the recognition software. It’ll stop whenever it senses someone and let them know it’s there before moving again.” Tony shrugged. “And I thought it was cute.”

“Since when do you do cute?” Rhodey asked suspiciously.

“Uh, ever since I made that robot with the water balloon launcher our senior year at MIT.” Tony watched a thoughtful frown cross Rhodey‘s face.

“The pink one with the flowers on it that Sarah and, what was her name, Connie in linguistics thought was absolutely adorable?” Rhodey asked.

Tony nodded. “Yep, that’s the one.”

Rhodey looked down at the cat again. “So let me guess, you’re going to use this thing to pick up girls during parties now, aren‘t you?”

“Hey, it worked with the balloon launcher,” Tony pointed out as he finished twisting the last screw in.

There was a snort of amusement. “Yeah, that it did.”

As he tapped the edge of the bed with the screwdriver, Tony called out, “Hey, Tom, come here.” The cat spun around and shot over to where Tony was sitting, coming to a stop just short of the bed.

Rhodey shook his head as he followed the cat. “You named it Tom? Let me guess, you named the mouse Jerry?” He leaned over Tom to get a look at Jerry, then rolled his eyes. “And you made it out of a computer mouse. Why am I not surprised?”

“Well, what else would I make it out of?” Sliding off the bed, Tony set the mouse on the floor and right-clicked it. The mouse took off, the end of cord he’d left attached as a tail flicking wildly up and down behind it. Tom spun back and forth between Tony and the direction the mouse had disappeared.

“Get the mouse.” Tom shot across the room then careened off the doorframe when it misjudged its angle of approach. It sat in the doorway for a few seconds, reoriented itself, then shot through the door. Tony heard it hit a wall somewhere in the hallway.

“Hm, must have screwed up the processing speed on the sensors when I reprogrammed him. Have to fix that before we go.”

“Well, you better hurry up, the limo will be here around one to take us to the airport,” Rhodey commented as he walked out to the balcony.

Tony followed Rhodey and was relieved to see Rhodey plopping down on one of the chairs and picking up one of the cups of coffee off the tray. Considering how things had gone last night, Tony wouldn’t have been surprised if Rhodey had just dump breakfast on the table and left. Dropping into the opposite chair, Tony picked up the fork and dug into the omelet filling the single plate on the tray, a little amused by the number of vegetables he could see sticking out of the golden mass of cooked eggs.

Occasionally glancing at Rhodey’s profile as he ate, Tony could almost hear him checking things off the departure list he would have had running through his head. “So,” Tony asked around a mouthful of omelet, “what’s on the agenda today?”

Rhodey turned to face Tony. “Okay, I know your mom taught you not to talk with your mouth full.” Tony gave him a look. Rhodey just smirked back at him as he leaned on the table with the coffee cradled in his hands. “Basically, it’ll just be the reverse of before,” he said as he rolled the cup a quarter turn back and forth between his palms. “We’ll fly out of here in the Gulfstream, then catch a C-17 home.” He gave Tony a thoughtful look. “But if you need to, we can stay a little longer.”

Tony shook his head. “Nah, I’ve kept you tied up long enough.”

Rhodey narrowed his eyes. “Hey, this was my choice, and it’s not a problem if you want to stay.”

“Look, I’m fine.” Rhodey rolled his eyes. Tony shook his head again, irritated by Rhodey‘s coddling. “I’m feeling a hell of a lot better; how’s that work for you?”

“Okay that I’ll accept.” Leaning back in his chair, Rhodey took a sip from his cup. “So, have you thought about what you’re going to do when you get home?”

“Sleep for a month probably.” Tony ate a little more of his omelet and chased it down with some coffee. “What about you? What are you going to do once you‘re done babysitting me?”

“I’m always babysitting you.”

Tony smiled. “When you’re done playing nurse.”

“Oh, I’m sure the Air Force will have something for me to do after I’m done filling out all the paperwork this whole mess generated. I figure that’ll keep me tied up for at least a week.” He took another sip. “After that, I’ll probably be back to training up a few pilots, unless the higher ups send me back out this way to help track down the bastards that kidnapped you.”

Rhodey kept talking, but Tony wasn‘t hearing him any more as he struggled to swallow the food in his mouth. In his mind he was back in the Humvee; but instead of Jimmy jumping out and getting shot to hell, he was watching Rhodey telling him to keep his ass in place before jumping into the gunfire that had shredded Jimmy and punched holes through the side of the Humvee.

And it would have been my weapons that killed him, if he‘d been in there.

Acid churned his stomach.

“Tony?”

Tony blinked and focused on Rhodey, allowing a pained expression to cross his face as he did-- not a hard thing to do considering everything he‘d just eaten was now attempting to reverse direction. “Sorry,” he said, dropping the fork on to the table, the clatter of metal louder than it should have been as he pushed himself to his feet. “Was hoping to cut back on the painkillers before we headed home. Apparently not a good idea at the moment.”

Rhodey carefully set his mug down, his gaze locked on Tony‘s face as he started to shove his chair away from the table. “I can get it for you.”

Tony shook his head a little too quickly as he took a step towards the bedroom. “No, gotta take a piss too.” He paused and looked at Rhodey over his shoulder. “Unless you want to help me with that?”

Shaking his head, Rhodey settled back in his chair. “Nah, I think I’ll let you handle that yourself.”

“Yeah, I figured you’d say that,” Tony muttered under his breath. He could tell by the way Rhodey narrowed his eye he should have kept that comment to himself, but thankfully Rhodey stayed put as Tony left him alone on the balcony.

As soon as he was safe inside the bathroom, Tony leaned against the door and took a few shallow breaths to control a sudden bout of nausea crawling up his throat. Once he was sure everything would stay where it was supposed to be, he pushed off the door and stepped over to the sink, pausing a moment to regard the reflection in the mirror.

Well, say hello to the Merchant of Death.

A chill ran through Tony and he looked away. Turning on the tap, he splashed some cool water on his face then scrubbed the water off with a towel. Taking a deep breath, he tossed the towel aside and forced himself to look at his reflection again.

Genius, American patriot, prodigal son-- those were some of the tags attached to the face in the mirror. There were others-- playboy, bastard, privileged, fool. He was ‘the DaVinci of our times’ and ‘the Merchant of Death.’

As if ‘The Merchant of Death’ was much of an insult, mused Tony. Hell, even Da Vinci sold himself off as a military engineer a few years before painting the Mona Lisa. So why is that one bothering me now? Tony scowled at his reflection, then his gaze slid towards the door.

Because you turned this all into a game, a game you never bothered learning the rules to because you thought you knew it all. People are dead now because of your hubris, Anthony Edwards Stark.

Gritting his teeth against the tension building in his chest, Tony wrenched the tap shut and watched gravity drag the remaining water down the drain.

Who are they?

They are your loyal customers, sir.

“Damn it.” Tony slammed his fist against the marble counter then shoved away from the sink to pace the length of the bathroom, once, twice, three times, the memory of Yinsen’s answer driving his steps down hard enough to jar his bad shoulder as he considered all the things he had done wrong by not doing a damn thing.

What you just saw, that is your legacy Stark, your life’s work in the hand of those murderers. Is that how you want to go out?

Stopping in the center of the bathroom, Tony shook his head. No Yinsen, that not what I want my legacy to be; but I need to face up to the fact I’m not just Tony Stark, I’m Stark Industries as well. It’s me people think of when they see that name now, not my father; it’s my name on the stationary, my name on the invoices, my name on every fucking weapon that leaves the factories.

A shudder ran through him. I don’t even know who that person is anymore.

Tony moved, reaching out blindly until his hand was pressed against the wall. He leaning his weight against his arm. I willingly let others decide who Tony Stark was; but once you take all the titles and facades away, what do I have left?

His mind wandered as he looked over his shoulder and glared at his reflection, and at who he used to be.

“You know what? I’m not like you,” he stated firmly, and was startled when Rhodey’s slightly inebriated but earnest response to that same statement from the flight to Afghanistan popped into his head.

No, no, you don’t have to be like me, but you are more than what you are, and you don't see it!

Twisting around so he could press his back against the wall, Tony stared across the room, his gaze drawn to the rise and fall of the Arc Reactor in his chest. What did you mean by that, Rhodey? What do you see that I can’t see? He closed his eyes and rested his head against the cool tiles. You do know the only reason you‘re alive right now is because I was being my usual asshole self and wouldn‘t let you into the Humvee, right? And yet, for all the shit I’ve put you through, you still risked your life and career to find me. Why? Why the hell did you do that?

That question was easy enough to answer; Rhodey had done it because they were friends. However, Tony was no longer the man Rhodey had gone out to rescue. He was a stranger now-- to Rhodey, and to himself.

So, who am I?

Don’t waste it. Don’t waste your life Stark.

Drawing in a deep breath, Tony held it, and then slowly let it out as he opened his eyes. He studied the face in the mirror as he propelled himself away from the wall and back to where he had started.

Staring into brown eye that were analyzing him in return, Tony thought, I’m not going to waste it Yinsen, but I’ve got no idea where to even start fixing it. Indulging in a fit of helplessness, he added, I did a pretty thorough job of fucking up my life, didn’t I?

A bitter smile stretched Tony’s lips as he remembered a few lines from an old TV show. ‘Gentlemen, we can rebuild him…better, faster, stronger…’

I wish it were that easy.

Something flashed across his mind, something that told him it was that easy, something shiny and silver that stole his breath away and locked him in place. It was an answer, he was sure of that, but he wasn’t sure which question it was an answer to. He tried grasping it, but it slipped away and he let it go with a sharp exhale. The calm that followed its departure told him that, whatever it was, it would come back to him when he was ready to do whatever the hell it asked of him.

Shaking off his surprise, Tony glanced at the counter then reached out and picked through the orange bottles clumped together beside the sink until he found the one he was looking for. Twisting the top off, he shook out one of the Vicodin tablets and popped it into his mouth, following it up with a handful of water. The pills had only been an excuse to get away from Rhodey, but by the time they boarded the C-17, the dull ache in his shoulder that he was currently experiencing will have moved up to the ice pick through the shoulder stage. Better to be fuzzyheaded now than later when I have to deal with things.

After swallowing the pill, wincing a little as he felt it dragging along the walls of his throat, Tony considered what his first move needed to be.

Still like the idea of sleeping for a month, but I’m gonna have to face the press at some point. They’ll want to talk about what happened, but that’s the last subject I want to discuss with them. He chuckled. He could just sic Pepper on the press to keep them at bay, but that would hardly be fair to the reporters.

No, I need to deal with that problem myself, though that brings up the question as to how I‘m supposed to do that.

He suddenly remembered the confrontation in Vegas with the female reporter-- Krissy, Carrie, whatever the hell her name was-- two nights before everything hit the fan.

All I want is a serious answer.

Okay, here’s serious-- my old man had a philosophy, peace means having a bigger stick than the other guy.

That’s a great line coming from the guy selling the sticks.

Tony focused on that last line, then he flipped it over. So what would happen if I took away the sticks? Before he could work out where that was leading him, there was the sound of footsteps approaching the door.

“You all right, Tony?”

Tony raised his gaze to the ceiling in exasperation. “Nope, flushed myself down the toilet. You better send out another search party.”

“Yeah, right.” He could hear Rhodey shifting in place, shoes scuffing against the floor. “You done with breakfast?”

“Yeah, toss it.”

“Kay.” Tony waited, knowing Rhodey wouldn’t leave it at that. “Are you all right?” Rhodey finally asked; his voice pitched low as if he were trying to hide his concern.

Tony looked back at the mirror. “No,” he answered honestly, and then he nodded once at his reflection before turning away.

“But I’m getting there.”